


Book 8: The Rending of Apocrypha

by BepisPerfected



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29132211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BepisPerfected/pseuds/BepisPerfected
Summary: The continuation from Book 7
Collections: Paar Jun; a Biographical Account of Ambition





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Appendix of terms: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29132244

#  Book 8: The Rending of Apocrypha

As recorded by Dremora Tzukyl, Palace Scribe.

##  Chapter 1

Within a few days, the three Koh-Nassa had gathered in their old home. Nahkiir led her older brothers around the repurposed ruin, showing off how she had improved it while maintaining aspects of their previous lives. They speared crabs in the marshes together just as when they were younger, and the three heartless reminisced about how different they had grown. They savored this happy time together.

Hahfrin regaled them with tales of his work in Blackreach. His attempts to replicate Dwemer constructs in a similar vein were improving with each iteration. The magical animation of the Steam Martyrs had led him to classify them closer to golems than true animunculi, though his team of artificers were making great strides in understanding the nature of their intelligence. He then suggested that after unraveling the secrets of the Dwemer he would create his own constructs and carve himself a laboratory that would rival those in the Clockwork City of Sotha Sil, with his artificers and Nimiinne at his side. He revealed that while she never lost her caustic exterior, he felt like he had been able to draw out her softer side. Behind closed doors, she could even be friendly! Hahfrin was now convinced that with enough effort they could tame and sophisticate the otherwise feral Falmer, and he would create a mechanical haven for the Snow Elves to flourish once more under his guidance. 

Nahkiir was similarly excited by her victories in Valenwood. With the Thalmor gutted, border tribes were beginning to ignore the orders of the Dominion in favor of returning to their tribal ways of life. She wanted to integrate Hist trees into the Green woods of the province to spread their influence amongst the Bosmer. She believed that they would find a lot of overlap between their beliefs and those of the Argonians, allowing for a cultural revolution as opposed to a militaristic one. Hist cults across Tamriel were also growing with her support, with two in Skyrim centered around Morthal and Sleeping Tree, one in southern Cyrodiil, one in southeastern Morrowind, and even one in High Rock, with hopes to integrate the Khajiit and Redguards as well.

Paar Jun through all had been reluctant to speak. He told his two siblings that he cared for them above all else. They showed ambition that matched even his own and he was proud to count them as his family. When he bore the weight of divinity, they would be the buttresses that held him aloft, and they would walk together along the shores of attainment. Nahkiir stated that she was eager to feel her feet sink in such sands. Hahfrin added that he would await the dawn break over such seas. Such as it was. Such as it would be.

The Koh-Nassa spent a few more days together before Jun led them back to his Palace. The Ambremian were sent to collect Keksa and Veysan while the rest were to fortify the Palace against attack. Flamia unaffiliated with the War Lord had begun to slither out of the fountains and streams of Plasm that flowed through the Palace, armored in an exquisite sharpened ebony plate over precise greenish mail. It was distinctly different from any daedric armor he was previously familiar with, and Jun wondered who might have designed it, or perhaps would go on to design it. His loyal Atronachs and foreign daedra of his court were similarly armed and armored in preparation, with dreudra constructing barriers to prevent attackers from reaching the throne and threatening Jun’s soul. Caldra told her partner that she had spent the time sowing the seeds for his final deed, and it was time to act. She assured him that it would look like an accident.

In Skyrim, the last mortal Mulzeymah was returning from a pilgrimage to Morthal. Lozok felt that the hearty Hist tree gave him some semblance of home amongst the frigid snows of the province, and he tried to visit every few months. While his siblings had been off inventing and subduing and conquering, he had been content to stay in Solitude. Trade agreements of his famous ale and diplomatic dealings provided all the excitement he could ask for, and even his alchemical studies had begun to fall by the wayside. However, in his most recent trip to Hjaalmarch he had managed to collect a nirnroot that he planned to keep on his nightstand. He had a decorative vase in mind for it, though for the time being it sat in an empty wine case next to him in his carriage. As he watched the scenery go by, his mind wandered. He was expecting a delivery of amethysts when he got back, disguised as unimportant mail. The infamous charmer had become the charmed a matter of years before, falling for a nice Argonian jeweler who had moved to the city. He had been subtly tricking her into making pieces of a silver ring over the past few months, and once he received the gems for the mounting, he hoped to propose. Lozok smiled to himself, thinking how surprised she would surely be. He had spent far longer away than he intended, for his own security, though he was eager to return to her. Three distinct assassination attempts had been foiled over the past few weeks, each one performed by a devout worshiper of Hur Momora. He had not been following the news and had no idea why his brother's old worshipers may have wanted to attack him, though thankfully, all had been unsuccessful. His guards felt that his time spent in Morthal had been long enough to where it was safe to finally return.

Days before in the nearby mountains, a sect of conjurers attempted to commune with the Demon of Knowledge. Caldra hijacked the summoning and, with the aid of Sayra's illusion magic, appeared as the Daedric Prince before them instead. They stated that they had done as he asked and located the brother of his heretical Champion. The conjurers were ready to slay him immediately to prevent Jun's prophesy from coming to pass, though Caldra curbed their fervor. She instructed them to capture Lozok alive, then to summon her once more so he could be interrogated and his knowledge absorbed. The conjurers seemed confused, though she boomed that this was the Will of their Lord, and they fearfully complied. 

As Lozok’s carriage neared the edge of the marsh it fell under attack. Ice spikes took out his driver and some of his guards, while the rest ran to confront the charging mages. The group slaughtered each other, but three of the conjurers survived. Lozok was out of shape and unarmed, but once he realized his guards were dead, he burst out of the carriage hoping to defend himself with his use of the Tongue. The mages avoided his shouts, punched him in the throat, then bound and gagged him as they led him back to their camp. Once again, they summoned Caldra. Upon seeing that they had indeed captured Lozok, she snapped her fingers and sparked fires in the pits of their skulls, boiling their brains and causing them to drop dead in an instant. The Atronach freed the Xiuthaleel and remarked that his brother had sensed his danger, sending her to save him. He was surprised to see her but relieved nonetheless, asking why Mora cultists kept targeting him. Caldra mentioned that it had been a while since he had even spoken to his eldest brother and suggested that they should catch up before returning to Solitude. She opened a portal and led him through before he could protest.

Unbeknownst to Lozok, she was not taking him to the Palace but rather deep into the Fields of Regret. Paar Jun was waiting for him, along with a giant handsome Skaafin lounging on a stump. A large plate of metal like the blade of a butcher knife was leaned up against the tree. Clavicus Vile clapped his great hands together in celebration of the reunion between the two brothers, though Jun held no comfort or cheer. His hands flexed into fists and back, as if he was working to manually stoke a rage he did not feel. Caldra closed the portal behind them and crossed her arms, taking a defensive stance opposite the Daedric Lord. Lozok, confused, ran to his brother to ask what was going on. Jun did not meet his gaze, staring blankly ahead.

He growled in the Tongue that Lozok had abandoned the Path of Ambition, which had defined the Mulzeymahhe. He had sought no movement past mortality, nor improvement of self or station. He no longer even wore his mask. He had become corrupted by contentment, but this act would save him. He would become a tool of Ambition Unbounded. 

Then, having no weapons, Jun sheered the exposed chunk of his heart away and melted it in his hand, using the ice breath of the Tongue to freeze it instantly into a shard of black glass. His youngest brother looked up at him in horror and confusion, unable to speak as Jun raised the sharpened shred high above his head. He looked down at the bare face he had not seen since childhood, the one who would challenge his sister to grub eating contests, the one who would squirt wasp goo at his brother when he got too stuffy to play, the one who taught him to catch light wisps so they could go crab hunting even at night. He saw the brother who always did a silly dance when he won at teeba-hatsei, his brother from before they were known by their masks, his brightest, youngest brother, Kulva. He looked down at him and hesitated, the shard wavering in his grip. His gaze drifted unconsciously to his Purpose, who sighed and dipped her head to remind him. Jun breathed a ragged, snarling breath, closed his eyes, and drove the shard down into his little brother’s heart. The Xiuthaleel gasped and clawed at his arm as he sunk it further, sputtering for a moment, then going slack. His soul flowed out through the shard, and Vile wasted no time snatching up both.

The Prince of Bargains praised Jun for the act and began molding the material in his hands fervently. Jun dropped the limp body of his brother and leaned into Caldra, the fiery anger that had allowed him to commit fratricide extinguished by a wall of brutal grief. Vile paid them no mind and grabbed the metal blade at his side. He slammed his other hand on the exposed tang and pulled back an exquisite handle of heartglass and gold. The blade shimmered in the light, reflecting a thousand screaming faces trapped within the metal. He excitedly presented the pair before him with his creation: the Prince Cleaver.

Now, the nature of Vile’s abilities do not extend infinitely. He is limited in what wishes he can grant and what deals he can make. Creating the Cleaver was within his capacity, as it simply inverted the binding power of chaotic creatia, but he could not truly comprehend its gravity. Just as a dragon screams in agony when faced with the concept of flightless mortality, the realm-splitting weapon Clavicus had wretched into being defied the Daedra’s very existence, and thus was indeed unknowable to him. The very essence of Oblivion seemed to rend itself around the blade’s edge.

As soon as Jun wrapped his palm around the hilt, his flesh bubbled and closed over the heart in his chest. Vile winced at it suddenly, and he hastened the pair out of his realm. Caldra opened a portal to the Palace, though the Lord Emperor turned to the Prince before leaving and spoke.

“Bask as you may in my wicked, Vile, deeds. Know, through them, we are made Peers.”


	2. Chapter 2

##  Chapter 2

Paar Jun returned to his Palace, doom driven. Hermaeus Mora had infested the castle with all manner of abominations, though Jun had foreseen his master’s attack. His loyal daedra contested them, a force of Ambremians, Flame Atronachs, Mazken, Spiderkith, Skaafin, Flamia, and Dreudra. They all fought through the halls of the castle, killing Mora’s minions as quickly as he could summon them. The Essentials surrounded the Lord Emperor as he made his way to the front of his Palace. Keksa struck a column of Lurkers with maul and word and reduced them to bait chum. Veysan hacked through the tendrils of the poison seas that grabbled the structure and slithered up the Palace walls. Hahfrin channeled lightning to pop the polyp watchers that infested the skies. Nahkiir washed her essence over the righteous army, repairing each injury as they received it. Caldra stoked the furnace of her heart and erupted, immolating every remaining servant of the Prince as they arrived at the fore balcony.

Hur Momora was waiting for him, having forgone his traditional floating appearance for a more destructive physical form. He rose as a titanic mass of writhing flesh, with gaping jaws wide enough to swallow the Blue Palace in a single gulp, and great bulbous eyes that lulled lazily about in their wrinkled sockets. He sloshed in the acid ocean of ink below, the majority of his body resting deep below the surface.

Jun brandished the Cleaver, inciting the eldritch horror to attack, and struck first. He plunged the blade through Apocrypha, carving a totem of vacancy that struck the beast, subjecting it to the unbridled gap-force of Aurbis. It wretched and died, with a new, taller, more hideous creature clawing out of the mouth of the first. It began to climb the tower when Jun struck again. This time he carved a swath around the tower, a deep chasm that ripped completely through the ground and up through the sky. The second beast had its ‘Wasness’ removed by the strength of the blade, with the space its head occupied being covered in a thick layer of ‘Is-Not’. Another head sprouted from the stump and reached over the gap, tearing stonework out as it clawed the castle’s exterior.

Scribe’s Note: At this point, the ensuing battle reached the limits of mortal comprehension. To explain why, the mechanism behind the Cleaver must be understood, as much as is possible for such an offensive affront to existence.

Though the realms of Oblivion appear to extend outwards in spherical infinity, they can better be considered as bubbles within the even more vast and expansive void of Aurbis. Everything is within this void: Aetherius, Mundus, and every instance of a discrete realm of Oblivion. Most ‘new’ realms are simply just existing bubbles that are combined, reshaped, or repurposed by a suitably powerful anima to command the resident physics of each space. The energy of Aurbis is beholden to the Anu-Padomeic interplay of creation: though the form this energy takes can and must change, in accordance with a Padomeic bias, the total quantity is Anuic, or static. Truly new realms cannot be formed without taking from others, with thousands of minor realms being required to match that of any mortally-known god. The proportions and layout of a realm is dictated by the anima within, some tied directly to the power of a single massive axis, such as that of a Daedric Prince, or others spread across a multitude of lesser beings, as is the case with Infernace.

Rather than harvest smaller masterless realms, the blade Clavicus Vile had bastardized into being functioned by amputating both a physical portion of a Prince’s realm as well as the anima within. The Cleaver can be better likened to a conduit in the shape of a blade, transferring energy from tip to hilt as it separates. In essence, Jun was consuming the Daedra-ness of Hermaeus Mora and in turn becoming more Daedra-like himself. The more the Palace was carved away the more connected he and the Prince were, the Mora-like he became. Unknowable knowledge passed through the weapon; un-understandable power leached between them.

Jun swung the blade in an unfathomable direction as he began to hack his way free of Mora. As he ripped, more of the chaos of the Void was exposed and began to leak in. The spiraling globules of ‘Has-Been’ are unbound by the laws of conventionalism that dictate the solidity of Oblivion. As more flooded the proximum and Jun became more Real than the re-entwining ‘Less-Than’, his will exerted itself on the malleable ‘Not-There’ and festered tendrils to pull up bricks of nothing. These colossal pieces of primordis-existencia tore great holes through Aurbis and into Mundus. Massive chunks of Apocrypha were shredded off the center edges and sent hurling through the Aedric realms. Disagreements along the chronological tangent strings caused them to rain though the past, digging up Atmoran Sky Cities from Mythic eras and the Inversion Temples of the descendant eras, colliding in the space between them. Dragons and daedra twisted in the ensuing conflict as even _our_ comparatively stoic laws began to bleed at the fringe.

As Jun continued to hack, the Palace split thrice, with three Juns all performing the same movements in the same space in opposite directions without the other’s knowledge and each one was Right. The remains of the uprooted structures were froth in the Aurbiquium, which crystalized root-fall-full and launched themselves mercilessly across the pausing gaps. Time broke again, and Hurme Mayygh Moreuh threw across his twenty-nine thousand anchors to latch on to the rhyme-hooks of fading water jellies, but they sunk and pulled back baited greater. And the Princes did plead with one another on the Bickering Shield, and so too do did the Cleaver move nextways.

Beg-which worms of some vortex beyond the tension’s brane began to writhe and shriek, contributing to the bridges with their mass. Again and another and once more, the Palace was compressed beyond itself, expanding less smaller through each swing. In reaction, the Sight-Dreaming-of-Stones began to hexagonate and dilate in reception as Juun strode unmovingly. Simultaneity had been shattered sixty-two hundred times and for each had a Palace and for each Palace had dust and in the dust the Frolic Remnant did play and confound and multiply. They swam yesterwards through the veins of unfathomable suffering, wishing to be in the place they once were but unable to move towards it. Jheun ate of them and twofold he did too embitter the flames that stoked viciously under the spiral of his watchmind backdive. Cantankerous cyst vyyers floating wrong upwards to the purging hole, the square as expected, and so must as he must go for another round, around, since the previous did not cut through. Not down, but everywhere else, of course. The individual is God for I is the spine of everything. This is the side of the wheel: existence encompassed in a singular concept, and Juunah pointed all his eyes to see. The blade thought windingly about coaxing the existence out of the bonds, perhaps, and now they graciously left themselves, adhering to politeness and manners and murder, and continued as they had never been before.

It was at about this point that the events expanded beyond the minds of even lesser daedra like myself. A Jil, those gigantic sisters of the Dov who are called to fix the Dragon Breaks of Mundus, is rarely seen out of their Time Dragon’s realm. Nineteen of them were summoned to correct Jun’s actions, the et’Ada we scorned for lack of power now having us at their mercy. The means by which everything was concluded is not for me to know, but what is known is that the Cleaver is not longer. Still, the results are clear to see. At least one instance of the Palace was tossed back into Apocrypha, notably a decade before Jun would even arrive in Skyrim. At least one chunk of stolen material from Mundus was returned, crashing down into the glaciers of Skyrim’s northern sea. Unmeasurable instances had all also occurred in tandem, but I am unfortunately bound to only know of these.

As for Paar Jun, I know not if his attempt to become a Daedric Prince was successful. Does he indeed exist in a future iteration? Does the non-linearity of Oblivion allow him to exist as a Daedra now? If some cultists were to pray to him, would something answer? Did the intervention of the Jils simply remove him from reality entirely, as they did to his Cleaver? I doubt this, though many questions remain. This Palace exists in Apocrypha before it was apparently constructed in its original iteration, or perhaps it has always been here. The throne persists, though it is empty of a soul. I wonder if perhaps Jun lives simultaneous to us, and our actions have no influence on the future in which he is foretold. Hermaeus Mora refuses to speak on the subject.

In an attempt to accurately recount the history of this structure, as I am bound to do, I questioned other Princes if they knew of the fate of Paar Jun. Clavicus Vile insisted that the only being by that name lived in Xiutha of Black Marsh. Boethiah laughed at the question, stating that his deceit and those inspired by him had filled her halls with a lovely amount of blood. Mephala mentioned only that the threads around him were spun with glittering gold. Azura offered some insight, stating that the Rending of Apocrypha had made him truer to himself than ever before, though as all things, left it ambiguous. Malacath dismissed him as horribly indirect and hellbent on leading his impressionable Orcs away from him. Hircine gave no response, instead summoning a rabid lycanthrope to attack me, though the sentiment can be inferred. Mehrunes Dagon cursed his name as spiteful through ‘action and Atronach alike’. Molag Bal only spat at his mention. Sanguine suggested he had become ‘no fun’, though was also left intentionally uninvited from his wedding to allow the Prince the courtesy of crashing it, which he admitted was a nice gesture. Frustratingly, the only detailed account that could be collected came from Sheogorath.

The Mad God attested that he had indeed ascended to became Pomora Jhunaz, Daedric Prince of Ambition and Greed, and lived in a realm of Oblivion known as the Shores of Attainment. The place was an eternal paradise, with lavish flora soft to the touch and eternal opulence of every sort. Hist-like trees offered shade and rivers of Amber Plasm flowed cleanly into a bright crimson sea. The realm consisted of an archipelago of a hundred thousand islands, each one with its own cities and inhabitants, all constantly vying for control over every other. Daedra from outside his sphere and even loyal mortals could join in the eternal power struggle, seeking glory and favor from the Prince. However, mortals especially would find every meal insubstantial, every victory twanged with a hollow core. His disciples not only encouraged but celebrated this, as it dissuaded stagnation and pushed them constantly to achieve more. Flamia, Dreudra, and Ambremians were natives here alongside the souls of Pomora’s devoted, and they could be found at every level of hierarchy within the armies of the islands. The mortal essences or banished daedra would form within the plasm sea to be washed ashore on a random island and forced to make something of themselves. The souls of Maormer were a rarity, though it was known that Jhunaz was actively trying to assert his influence across Pyandonea to split the loyal Sea Elves from their King. Opportunistic Skaafin, scheming Spiderkith, and even clanless Mazken could be found living on the islands as well, working both with and against the natives to hone their skills or accrue power. An exceptional number of Flame Atronachs also populated the realm. Pomora was said to have a particular affinity for fire as a metaphor for his sphere, for it could be fed forever and never sated. His own ambitions were said to be infinite and he hungered eternally to hoard even more realms and power within his own, with conquered realms being added as islands in his sea. The island state of Vakh was supposedly the entirely of Molten Vakh stolen from Infernace and dropped into the sea, where it cooled into a landmass. Unlike other Daedra or Dov whose greed stemmed from the desire to exert dominion over others, Jhunaz simply wanted to have things for the sake of having, finding value in the deprivation of others. Some of the more permanent figures on this plane were the Essaints, first formed from Jun’s Essentials in life and bolstered by mortals who showed unparalleled and insatiable ambition. How much authority he maintained over the Tamrielic Empire was unclear, though it was known that he had replaced his old master in the Xiuthan pantheon.

The other Daedric Princes had complicated opinions towards Pomora Jhunaz. Most resented the thought that a mortal could become even comparable to their power and did their best not to acknowledge him. Some were directly antagonistic towards him, as he would sometimes try to assault other realms to pillage and steal territory or artifacts from them, chiefly Mehrunes Dagon, Molag Bal, Hircine, and Hermaeus Mora, to varying degrees of success. Some Princes were allied with Jhunaz, as his intervention in the mortal world often indirectly served their interests as well, namely Boethiah and Mephala. Generally though, all the Princes agreed that Pomora Jhunaz was a relatively minor Daedric Lord, comparable perhaps to a strong Demiprince but far more personable.

Of course, while it is so very tempting to officially mark this as the eventual fate of Jun, this account unfortunately cannot currently be verified, a fact that the Prince of Madness likely revels in. Regardless, I am eager to discover what events may unfold in the aftermath of this sundering of time when Paar Jun, should he still be, begins his campaign of conquest in the years to come.

Of this, known, is the tale of Paar Jun, the Ambitious King.


End file.
